


Serendipity

by nnoiffu



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Because you can't have one without the other imo, F/M, Female Reader, I'm writing this for my s/o but I can't not share it, M/M, Polyamory, Reader-Insert, Tags will be updated as the fic goes along., Threeway ship ahoy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:51:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nnoiffu/pseuds/nnoiffu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The reader is a college graduate now in debt and hates the government bc it's garbage and happens to find some people who also aren't fond of the gov't.<br/>Smut is imminent. It's not currently present, but this fic will be updated every so often. Summary will change as time goes along.<br/><br/><b>NEXT EXPECTED UPDATE: </b>???? Sometime after May of 2017. Could be before, but who knows w/ my current classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All About You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is in dedication to my girlfriend. :) Thanks for making me feel good and for being the best friend I could ever ask for.  
> Just as a warning, I am churning these chapters out every few days and I may not always proofread them one hundred percent so if you see any errors or anything before I do, and you want to point it out, I won't get mad. I'm just trying to push out as much as I can before Summer is over and I have to go back to college.

Let’s talk about you.

You’re young. Plenty of life ahead of you on this Earth, with the potential to do many good things, and your heart is in the right place with all intention to do so, despite those times that the world has turned its back on you and made you sour. You’re kind and considerate of others.

But you also are plagued by the dreadful realities of life that leave optimism a difficult concept to perceive the world with. This has been your first year in your career of nursing, the demand for them being particularly high after the Omnic crisis broke out. The scrutiny against robots that would have otherwise assisted in the hospitals rose drastically high. Which was great! Sort of. You kind of wanted to be an artist, but your parents insisted that you instead switch your interests to the medical field, which you yielded for only because the threat of living out on the streets was a serious one. Funny how despite that technology flourished, the threat of poverty and student debt was a crushing factor that left many fighting to make it by. Meanwhile, mega corporations enjoyed their lives of luxury with their hands in the pants of politicians. You didn’t want to struggle to make ends meet as many artists often did, and you also kind of didn’t want to disappoint your parents? But more importantly, you didn’t want to be a broke ass motherfucker, so you sucked it up.

Which in the end was still a load of horse shit, you thought to yourself as you took your stuff out from your locker, ready to clock out from your shift for the night at the hospital. It’s going to be a long ride home tonight. You lived at least an hour away from the facility. But before you went home to wash up, eat dinner, and go to bed for the night, you had to make a stop somewhere. It shouldn’t be long, seeing as how engrossed you are in summarizing your life to yourself, recreating a dramatic story in your head about your life thus far like it’s some cinematic experience to an unknown crowd of viewers.

You pull out your phone and text your roommate. Even though you just landed a job, you still needed to bunk it with a friend from college until you paid off a good chunk of your bills, which wouldn’t be for a while to the relief of your roommate. The both of you were ambitious girls, and you both believed in looking out for one another in this rather dangerous world. As luck would have it, she was a night owl, just like you.

_I’m going to be an hour late._

With the push of the send button, not even a minute later your phone is buzzing.  
It’s her.  
It’s almost like she was waiting on you. You read her reply.

_Same drill as usual if I don’t hear from you in an hour?_

You pause for a second.  
It shouldn’t be that long of a detour, right? Your fingers effortlessly type out a one word reply.

_Yep. :)_

A few seconds later, she replies with a thumbs up emoji. Perfect. You put your phone in your pocket. Your head is pounding a bit and pulling your eyes away from the bright screen probably just ignited it. Figures. Fortunately your job gives you just _that_ much grief that you have painkillers on the ready, always in your pocket in the form of aspirin. You pop in an aspirin and chew it, trying to not struggle with the sour taste. Supposedly chewing those damned pills made them work faster, so you were completely down for it.  

Now, where was it you left off again? Right.

Fuck the government. You should be able to pursue your dreams without being fearful of not being able to make it big and live a decent life. The Omnics by _Omnica Corporation_ didn’t bring about any economic boost, it was just the corporations engaging in corruption, aka just business as usual. They just caused another war that cost even more money. It made you angry, enough to the point of considering a few times to be a political activist. You admired those that dedicated their lives to the social justice movements and the progressive standpoint to improve the lives of others and the world. They were heroes, you thought. They were the ones sacrificing their free time and risking arrest for the common folk.

You were kind of a hero too, at least according to others.

You nursed people back to health. You tended to them when they were most vulnerable, and you gave them medications, kept tabs on their medical records, and gave advice to those that were going to be leaving, the list went on. Being an actual doctor piqued your interest, but that’d require a different kind of schooling and money that you currently didn’t have. Fortunately the doctor you work around, despite being very busy, has been very awesome in teaching you a few things here and there. The doctor you worked under was amazing, they were fantastic, and they were well known throughout the public area of being an incredible doctor. The hospital you worked at saved many lives.

But it also lost many as well.

Indeed, the reality of the fact that even with all the advance in medicine, some things just could not be avoided. Diseases that developed and grew extreme resistance to antibiotics were a threat more than what they had been ever in human history. The threat of bioterrorism was something very real that was just waiting to happen. Accidents, brain damage and brain diseases as well as neurological complications were still some common issues of today’s world. Sure, organs were easier to access in this lifetime in this part of the world, the solutions being organ harvesting from the deceased who legally donated them, organ engineering or by synthetic artificial replacements. But replacing a brain, which was perhaps the most complex organ in the entire body? That just simply wasn’t feasible.

Watching those families deal with the complexities of their loved ones medical situation was never a pretty sight, particularly if it was for the worst.

That’s what happened to the majority of your patients that you took care of today.

The stress from it all was why you found yourself taking a detour along the way home at one in the morning, driving to the outskirts of the city that led to the harbor. You lived on the east coast, where the access to the ocean was ideal for tourists. For you, this late at night, one of the less occupied ports in the harbor was the place you went. There was an entire sector that had nothing but abandoned buildings, countless places that once used to be for productivity now put out of commission after the presence of Omnics, the general advancement of technology, and lack of needing human labor in assembly-type areas. After the loss of businesses, this became a place that others went to die. Well, at least one person anyway. There was one report of a suicide being a thing at an abandoned cannery in one of the ports. It was in the news about a week ago—a man made his way up to the highest point and jumped off. You remember seeing the building on the television in one of the patient’s rooms you were in.

It was where you parked your car tonight, leaving the keys in the ignition and the engine running, the headlights on, its illumination hitting the building and highlighting all the damage that faithful Father Time had done to it. The bricks were cracked, their colors faded and many of them broken, but it had a rather steampunk kind of feel to it with the combination of metal to its bricklike structure. Maybe that’s why it’s lasted as long as it has, being out of business for more than maybe eighty years.

This place was just a little out of the way home. It would have taken longer to go to the beach, but you hoped that maybe the soothing sounds of the waters would give you some peace of mind, listening to the waves crash against the structures built in the water, listening to the boats sway, some of them particular having things like bells that made them make noise if they swayed hard enough.

You needed to get closer to the water, and so you did by taking steps further out, just before the docks. The wind was blowing and your hair was starting to get in your face a little, but a simple brush of it behind your ears sufficed to be an effective solution. The stars were bright tonight through what you could see past the clouds. It was always hard to see the night sky in the city, but here it was a bit easier. The twinkling stars were like little pinpricks from one reality to the next, little holes pierced from this world leading to another. It was an amusing thought to humor.

You remained on the edge of the harbor. Any step out further and you would have fallen straight into the water.

Glancing downward, you see your reflection in the dim lighting that’s available to you. The moon is out just enough for you to catch a glimpse of your tired expression, particularly with emphasis on the rings under your eyes.  
You cried a few times today. Maybe it was your time of the month that was making all your hormones go out of whack, but today you let the travesties of life get the best of you. Today at work, you had acted like a patient rather than a nurse, unable to keep your composure as you faced dying people and their distressed families who wanted answers and interrogated you for information which you could not provide. They were asking the impossible from you, trying to see if there was anything that could be done within humanly grasp, and it hurt to look them straight in the eyes and tell them no, but you had to. You had to keep in those tears. When you were finally able to break away from the grieving families of the day, you had to retreat to the breakroom, and thank God that there wasn’t anyone in there. You had to weep.

Life was such a precious thing. It was the submissive other half of death, who reigned dominant. It was easier to die than it was to live. At least in death you felt nothing. When people asked you what death was like, you’ve always responded that it was simply like how it was before you were born—nothing. A scary thought for some. Tempting for others who lived in misery. Sometimes you wondered just how much of each day you could take whenever you went in for work. Some nights would be absolute hell and others would be eerily peaceful, which were still stressful, because you were just _waiting_ for something to go wrong.

The miniature waves that were hitting the structure you stood on looked inviting, they looked soothing and sounded relaxing. It was bound to be cool water on this hot summer night, no doubt a relief. How nice it would be to just jump in and be swept away without a care in the world, to end up somewhere different than here, away from a world of crushing of student debt, stress at work, bills to pay, and sometimes the skipped meal that made your entire evening miserable from hunger pangs.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath of the sea water, daydreaming of the cool refreshing waters that this seawater near the factories clearly were not. You hold out your arms by your sides, letting the wind blow in your hair as you stood on the edge.

The sudden disruption almost caused you fall straight in.

“OI! ARE YA GONNA JUMP OR NOT? ‘CAUSE YOU GOT A NICE CAR HERE THAT WE DON’T MIND HAVIN’ IF YOU’RE TAKIN’ A ONE WAY TICKET OUTTA HERE, MATE!”


	2. You Dun Fucked Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why did you even take a detour? Now you're in a world of trouble. Way to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is in dedication to my girlfriend. :) Thanks for making me feel good and for being the best friend I could ever ask for.  
> Just as a warning, I am churning these chapters out every few days and I may not always proofread them one hundred percent so if you see any errors or anything before I do, and you want to point it out, I won't get mad. I'm just trying to push out as much as I can before Summer is over and I have to go back to college.
> 
> Keep a lookout every couple of days for a new chapter!

That voice came from behind you, and it startled you to where you almost lost your footing. You could hear the disembodied voice laughing at you losing your balance for a split second, leaning almost too far forward as your held out arms swung in small circles a couple of times.

“HAHAHA! DID OI SCARE YA THERE A BIT, MATE?”

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes instantly locking onto a particular window on the second floor of the cannery that was cracked open. The floor levels were rather large in gaps, and it looked like it'd be at a third floor height in a regular building. From what you can make out, there's a long lanky man with some receding hairline, thick eyebrows, and a long face. And he has no shirt on, showing off a pretty impressive chiseled torso.

“Well Oi’ll be stuffed! IT’S A SHEILA! ‘EY, ROADHOG, YA SEEIN’ THIS FROM YER VIEW?”

You can’t hear the other voice from the distance that separates you and the stranger who kind of looked like a reject clown without the makeup, but you can tell that there is someone else besides him who isn’t presently visible. The other one who you actually _could_ see, however, was just so _loud_. He was looking over his shoulder right behind him.

“Tell ‘er to turn the headloights off?”

Headlights?

It takes you a moment thanks to a mental lag, but it clicks. Right. You had your car on, and you glance back at the lights from your headlights that were breaching inside the windows of the building your vehicle was parked in front of. Without a doubt you were lighting up whatever was in that cannery. And you apparently disrupted _whoever_ was in that abandoned building, as a result.

Fucking hell.

You knew you should have turned off your goddamn car, but you insisted that you wouldn’t be that long.

“Wait, wait, Oi got it!”

The man in the window walks away for a split second, and before you even get the chance to start to walk back to your vehicle, he’s already returned, with a handheld launcher. You pray in those few seconds that you had that it was just a paintball gun that he’s aiming straight down at your car with.

**BOOM!**

Apparently not.

You don’t even have time to process how distressed you are at first, your eyes lighting up with the explosion as clouds of red and yellow consume your vehicle. You don’t get to see too much of the obliteration of your car past the first second and a half, because the blast wave from the detonation blows you way off the edge of the small dock, sending you straight into the harbor with a splash.

“CRIKEY! I THINK SHE EVEN SKIPPED A LITTLE THERE!”

You can’t hear anything beyond the seawater in your ears, water seeping its way into your lungs when you initially fell in until you quickly realized that you were submerged. You swim back to the surface, gasping and coughing up the water you swallowed. It’s seawater, it’s disgusting, and you actually throw up a tiny bit of it because your body wasn’t tolerating any of that nasty shit in your system. You wipe your eyes, keeping your head afloat as you bob up and down in the water, and when your vision returns, you see where it is you fell from, and more importantly, what the hell happened.

“MY CAR!!! YOU BLEW UP MY FUCKING CAR?!?!”

You want to be angry, and your initial reaction is to be ready to march your way right up into that cannery and snap that asshole’s neck who thought it was cute to obliterate your car.  
With an explosive.  
In such a frivolous fashion, at that. If he was willing to waste something so dangerous on something like a stranger’s car so irresponsibly, you could conclude two things.

One, he was fucking crazy.  
And two, as if the launcher wasn’t already an indicator, he had plenty of more where that came from.

You hear that same voice from before that didn’t belong to the loony blonde beanpole, and that disembodied voice sounds mad. There’s yelling, but you can’t make it out from the distance. You’re debating on just how fast you could swim away at this point, praying that he doesn’t have the intention to end up going after _you_ next. Your car is nothing but a husk at this point, you can see all the windows are blown out, flames still lapping hungrily at whatever it can survive off of in the remains of the detonation. There’s no tires on it anymore, and the stench of burning rubber fills your nostrils along with the seawater that’s literally right in front of your face as you stay afloat.

“OI DIDN’T MEAN T’BLOW A HOLE IN THE WALL! SHE MADE ME DO IT!”

You almost didn’t even notice that part of the building you parked in front of now had a decently sized hole in it. A few of the windows were busted too, now that you squinted to see them through the black smoke coming from what was once your ride home.

“I DIDN’T MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING!!” You blurt out at him without even thinking _twice_ , because if you had thought about it, you would have just been swimming away to safety.

“YES YOU DID! IF YOU DIDN’T PARK YOUR PIECE OF JUNK IN FRONT OF ME BUILDIN’, NONE OF THIS WOULD’VE ‘APPENED!”

Is this reject clown _SERIOUS_ right now?!

You’re about to get another word in, but there’s a stomping sound that you can see is visibly making the top floor of the building shake.

“No, no, don’t get up! I-IT’S FOINE, OI GOT ‘EM! Y-you shouldn’t be up roight now, mate!”

The stomping gets louder, and the man in the window seems rather submissive to the mystery man out of view. The blonde is raising his hands to his sides and smiling sheepishly.

“Or, y’know, you do whatever you think is roight, ‘Hog. M’just tryin’ t’look out for ya.”

The footsteps fade, then come back much louder, and they come back louder because they’re on the bottom floor.

“OOOH, HE’S COMIN’ FOR YA, GIRLIE!”

You only need look at him for one second before you immediately turned yourself around and fucking stroked your way outta here like a goddamn Olympic swimmer, because that man who came through that hole stood at a whopping height of a few inches over what you guessed must have been seven feet tall. Can you say fucking _terrifying_?

Nope, fuck that.

It hasn’t even been a whole minute and you’d like to say that you’re making great progress, considering that you haven’t worked out since high school! You’d laugh to yourself if you had the breath, but instead you’ll just relish in the relief of being able to live another day because—

“COME HERE!”

That voice gives you the chills and just gives you the willpower to paddle all the faster, but it turns to be all for naught when your upper half is suddenly yanked back, rendering you completely unable to swim away. Something has a hold on your back, wait, no, your shirt, because if it was your back, you would have felt something. It was your shirt that was being snagged by a hook. You see him over your shoulder with the chain line starting with him on the docks and ending with you in the harbor. You’re in shock of how it just all happened, wondering just what it was that you did wrong in your life that led to _this_.

Your stomach drops when you’re completely yanked right out of the harbor like a fish on a line.

“OI! HAHA! What a great catch!”

“Shut up. You’re the reason why I’m up in the first place.”

“Right! Sorry!”

Right into the arms of that portly man with the broad shoulders and staggering height. You’re soaking wet and he’s got you dangling over the water. You’re face to face with a mask, and right to your left is the man who bombed the shit out of your car.

There’s an awkward moment of silence between everyone. You glance at the both of the men, who are undoubtedly doing the same to you.

Your kneejerk reaction to this? Call your roommate that you have on speed dial. It’s a good thing that today’s technology has made phones extremely waterproof. She picks up after the second ring, and before you’re able to say anything, the device is removed right from your hands by the bigger of the two men.

“Trying to call for help?” A disapproving rumble nestles itself in the back of the throat of the man with the visage of a swine.

“Hello? Hello?” You can hear her on the line, and you don’t get a chance to get a word in as you witness your phone is crushed right in front of your face. His baritone laughter fills the air when he lets the crumbed up pieces of the phone fall right into the water. His friend doesn’t hesitate to laugh along with him. It doesn’t last long and the big man’s laughter devolves into wheezing that makes his whole body shake and his hold on you falter just slightly. You don’t dare try to make a getaway or try to force your freedom, even when he’s clearly struggling breathing and fighting to keep himself from doubling over.

“Roadhog, y’alright, mate?” His friend put a hand on the swine-man’s shoulder, who only shrugged it off and growled once he regained himself.

“I’m _fine_ , Junkrat. Just going to kill this one and get it over with. Then I’m going back inside.”

Roadhog. Junkrat.  
Interesting name choices.  
But that’s not what is important right now. You didn’t care about that.

A lightbulb went off. Now was your chance.

“WAIT!” You interject, pulling out one last trick from your pocket. That trick was the bottle of aspirin you kept. You were doing this stunt half because you wanted to come out of this situation alive, and half because when that man was coughing up a lung, you knew damn well that that just wasn’t any kind of cough. And, well, being in the field of work that you’re in, you also took the Nightingale Pledge. Not exactly a Hippocratic Oath, but it’s an oath in your field that meant you’re dedicated to the cause you stand for. And even if you didn’t really like nursing as much as you liked art, you’d be damned if you didn’t let all those years of hard work go to waste.

You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, after all.

“What’s with the bottle of candies?” Junkrat raised a brow.

“This?” You flaunt the object while being dangled in midair, about four feet above the water. The pills rattled within the container, the label on it faded and soaking wet, but fortunately the contents inside are untouched. For now, at least, but you’re willing to play a bit of a game here. You’ve already lost your phone which you really, really loved, and more importantly, you lost your fucking car, all in one night, all within one hour.  
So fuck it. You unscrew the cap, emptying out the little amount of pills left into your hand. It rattles as you shake for the liberation of these babies to be free of their plastic prison, and while you can’t see it, you can definitely feel that the interest of the so called Roadhog was captured.

“This right here is medication. Aspirin, to be a matter of fact. They come from the bark of willow trees and they’re generally a painkiller, fever and inflammation reducer. They’re also good for headaches and sometimes migraines. I know for a fact that your cough isn’t just _any_ cough, but a symptom of illness. You might have a mask on, but I’m sure that it sounds _drastically_ worse when you’re not wearing it. And I would know.”

You pause for dramatic emphasis now that you know that you have their attention, including Junkrat, who you can just feel is the harder one to catch the attention of. You might have just met him, but you know how some people just give off certain vibes? Yeah, he was giving off one of _those_.

“I’m a _nurse_. And since you both don’t seem like the type that would be medically informed, you probably don’t know a lick about how to recover from them in the most effective manner or to prevent them from complicating. I don’t know if you know this, but the medical field has been fighting with quite the bit of new illnesses that have been discovered thanks to all the bioengineering that’s been going on. But if you want to kill me,” You extend your hand out to the water, glaring at the both of them with the most deadened look in your eyes. You’d been through so much shit today, you’re wet and you’re miserable, and the threat of death looms over your head, so desperation has made you impressively crafty with what little of a bargaining chip you had left for yourself. “The pills go with me too.”

There’s absence of words between the three of you, and you could tell that Roadhog was weighing the benefits and the risks, which had you wondering just _how_ bad whatever it is that Junkrat was implying was plaguing him. Junkrat only looked at Roadhog for answers, presumably after already being told to shut up once, and not wanting to aggravate his sick friend.

You dare not falter in your stance, you dare not yield, and you continue to look at the swine mask right straight ahead, seeing your own dim reflection in his goggles, thanks to the moonlight.

It’s sweet, sweet, victory when you feel your weight being placed onto a flat surface that was the dock. You’re on your feet now. When he takes a step back, you cautiously put the pills back in the bottle, then back in your pocket. You open your mouth to say something, but the next thing you know his entire hand is wrapped around your forearm, and you’re being dragged off towards the cannery.

“We’re gonna be havin’ a fun time with you here, doc. Oi can already tell if ol’ Roadhog ‘ere didn’t kill ya, yer in for a good time.” Junkrat throws his head back, giggling to himself as you notice his prosthetics up close now that you actually have the time to notice them. He’s hobbling a bit, and he’s got quite a bit of a hunch to him, but that doesn’t seem to stop him.

“You are going to fix me or you are going to die.” Roadhog tightens his grip on your arm, and you wince but refuse to let out a noise, lest you draw attention to yourself.

You’re not going to think about this entire situation all too much.  
You’re going to try to look at this in a positive light, anyway. Maybe you’ll actually be able to change out of these wet clothes…

 _Maybe_.


	3. Shhhhh!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're multitasking between taking care of one sick Junker and babysitting the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is in dedication to my girlfriend. :) Thanks for making me feel good and for being the best friend I could ever ask for.  
> Just as a warning, I am churning these chapters out every few days and I may not always proofread them one hundred percent so if you see any errors or anything before I do, and you want to point it out, I won't get mad. I'm just trying to push out as much as I can before Summer is over and I have to go back to college.
> 
> Also, wow, I wasn't expecting such good reception so fast! I'm really humbled and I'll be doing my best to write as much as I can. Enjoy this new chapter, because the next one isn't going to be so peaceful. ;)

A deal had been made. The conditions?

You were allowed to change out of your sopping wet clothes.

 _After_ you took care of Roadhog.

It was better than being murdered and having your body tossed out into the harbor outside, so you’d take it for what it was. You weren’t too focused on how uncomfortable you were as much as you were concerned about what is wrong with your new patient.

The inside of the cannery looked nothing like the outside. You could tell that they’d been staying here for quite a while. The inside had a faint hint of the smell of fish, but it was nothing a simple air freshener couldn’t easily overcome.

Junkrat made it clear that they’d been bunking out here at least for a month, proudly pointing out how electricity was present in the building and boasting about how he stole a few solar panels to get everything up and running. He was trying to get you to be interested in the story of how he got the water running in the building, too, but you weren’t having any of his disruptions, and neither was Roadhog, who put an end to what was going to otherwise become the beginning of a major distraction during a rather tense time for you. Considering, you know, you’re still shaken up from before. Your mind is still flashing back to the instant that you were hooked and pulled right out of the water, reflecting on how dumb you were and that you should have just went underwater and held your breath as long as possible while swimming away. Maybe then he might not have gotten you, and maybe, just maybe, you’d be fairly close to being in your own bed and getting some sleep.

Too bad that wasn’t happening in this reality.

On top of running water and electricity, there was actually furniture in the cannery, which surprised you, but not as much as having actual functional utilities in an abandoned building. There’s a few chairs, one couch, all of which looked like were salvaged straight from the dumpster or some other abandoned building here in this empty sector that hadn’t had seen a trace of humanity for decades. That was the only old looking things in here. There’s a television, fridge, counters, sink that was probably part of the workplace break room once upon a time, a bathroom, the works, basically. It was all on the second floor, though. The other floors were pretty much barren. You’re not sure why it’s all on the second floor, but you don’t ask. A vast majority of the stuff here was pretty much a mixed bag, and you weren’t even sure how they managed to have extravagant things like a fancy looking rug or a couple of what you could only assume to be expensive paintings. Either that or they were just really authentic looking copies.

You remembered when you took an art history class in college as an extracurricular to get your degree about how many of the art thieves who stole artifacts and paintings ended up seriously fucking them up by doing shit like not keeping them framed to protect the mediums used on the canvas. And what made it worse was that when they stole them, it’s not like they could even sell them to anyone because they’d run the risk of being caught for being the one to sell it. Not to mention the buyer could potentially be prosecuted for being in mere _possession_ of it. So what the hell were these two going to even do with them? You couldn’t imagine much at all, but god only knows with them apparently, as you’ve quickly learned within the first hour of meeting each other.

The scarier of the two was no doubt the portly man, who was also abnormally tall. Turns out Junkrat was pretty tall too when he wasn’t hunched over. You’re only a whopping five feet, five inches tall. You’re a small thing. But the tallest out of all three of you was Roadhog.

And to your relief, he wasn’t as scary when he was laying down in the largest bed you’ve ever seen, subdued by a running fever of what you could guesstimate around one hundred and two when you placed your hand to his sweaty forehead. You couldn’t see his face because Roadhog made it clear that he didn’t want any lights on in the room when he was trying to rest, but the moonlight that was present all throughout the night thus far continues to assist you as a dim beam illuminates the room from the window right above the bed. You can make out of the shape of the man’s face and the rest of his body, but you can’t see any features. He’s just a silhouette. Probably for the best, anyway. You didn’t want to see what was under that pig mask out of fear of just what you might see.

You gave him some of the aspirin from your pocket earlier after he told you that he was experiencing some pain in his joints. You tried everything you could within your power thus far in trying to cool him off and keep him comfortable until the medication kicked in, from taking off his blanket, propping him up with a few pillows to reduce coughing, to opening the window to let some of the seaside wind come in. That was the good thing about living near water—you usually got a lot of breeze coming inland.

You’d really like to change out of your clothes right now, the dampness making you really uncomfortable while you sat in a tiny wooden chair right by the bed. You brought it in from the other room, figuring that you were going to be here a while. So far, you’ve been here for what you could round up to maybe fifteen minutes. It should be any minute now that it’d be working.

“You’re still burning up.” You remark, your hand once again touching his forehead, then his cheek.

Silence. No answer.

Yet from the darkness you can somehow feel that he’s is staring right at you. And that makes you nervous. You swallow the lump in your throat, taking a rag that you found lying around on the ground in the kitchen portion of the second floor and put it near the open mouth of the water bottle that you took from the well-stocked fridge. Soaking it in the cool liquid, some of the bottle’s contents fall onto the floor from how you’re generously trying to get the cloth to absorb the water. When it gets to the point just before being drippy, you stop, and you place the cold wet rag on the man’s forehead, who groans.

“I know…” You say, gently placing your hand on top of Roadhog’s, giving it a gentle pat or two before screwing the cap back on the water bottle and placing right on the tiny table next to his bedside. “The medicine should take effect soon.”

You feel another pair of eyes besides Roadhog’s, and when you turn you head to the doorway, you confirm your initial suspicion all along. There at the doorway, was Junkrat, peeking and casting you a look like that of a child who had just been caught. How long had he been watching in silence for? He wasn’t looking at you though, rather, staring intensely at his partner in crime. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that the two of these guys were very close. Judging by the clinginess and lingering nature that Junkrat has been exhibiting right outside that door on and off from the moment you got here, you can tell that he’s at the very least, worried. Then he goes from watching Roadhog, straight to staring at you, giving you a once over.

You cast Junkrat a weak, reassuring smile. You’re not one hundred percent confident without advanced technology that would have otherwise been at your fingertips if you were in the hospital, but you don’t let them see you sweat. That smile catches the impish Junker off guard, who tilts his head just slightly to the side in puzzlement.

“He should be fine. He just needs time to rest.”

Then his face lights up in a smile. “ALROIGHT, Doc!—“

You place your finger to your lips and quickly shush him, and as you do, Roadhog shifts in the darkness, growling sedately in annoyance from the abrupt loud noise. He sounded tired now.  
A good sign.

“He won’t get any better sooner if you’re going to be like _that_.” You quietly chide Junkrat like a child, slowly getting up out of the seat you’ve been sitting in longer than what you’d have liked.

Fearing that the hyperactive Junkrat would potentially interfere with the recovery of the man who threatened to kill you had he not recovered over a certain period of time, you decide to quietly leave the room, gently shutting the door behind you. You’d check back in on him in a little while. You didn’t have any other medication on you other than the aspirin right now, but maybe with some convincing tomorrow to get some supplies, you could totally make a break for it. They’re criminals, you’re not. The police are not gonna arrest YOU if you’re going out to get something, and you’d like to think that the Junkers are not in the position to mess with the law when they’re not at tip top shape.

“That’s the quoietest he’s been since the past few days.” 

You squint, turning to look up at the tall Junker, “What do you mean?”

“Oi mean, this is the least Oi’ve seen ‘im tossin’ and turnin’ ‘round in the bed. He’d been grunting and groanin’ a lot more, too.”

“You really don’t know _anything_ about taking care of someone, do you?”

“Erm. Not really, no. We Junkers don’t get sick often. We already got pretty good immune systems!”

Maybe that’s why Roadhog isn’t feeling too well. You couldn’t imagine anyone feeling better if they’re stuck with a loudmouthed person who was willing to bomb the shit out of anyone or anything within radius that wasn’t even a threat, and that’s just you putting your personal spin on it based off the shit he did to you! You can’t begin to fathom what the poor Roadhog had been dealing with over the past few days.

“Oi’m glad you’re here though, Doc. Sleepin’ on the couch by meself hasn’t been comfy.”

You see the couch off to the side behind him. It was placed literally right next to the door, just a few steps away from Roadhog.

His heart was in the right place, anyway.

“Is that where you usually sleep?”

“Nah. ‘Hog an’ Oi share the bed sometoimes, but since he’s been feelin’ a little under the weather, Oi ain’t been intrudin’ on him. Been too much of a cranky bloke. Don’t wanna catch what he has either.”

You scratch at the back of your head.  At least he had that much common sense. You’re not really sure what to say after that, but fortunately Junkrat fills in the gap that you left.

“Still wearin’ those wet clothes from earlier, eh? Lookin’ a bit uncomfortable there, sheila. Oi saw ya walkin’ funny when ya came walkin’ in here.”

“ _Dragged_ in here.” You correct him.

“Same difference.”

Okay. Not really, but okay.

“You must be wantin’ some new clothes t’switch into, don’t ya?”

Oh, good God, he’s looking at you a bit concerned, and it’s probably because you just heard the choir from heaven descend down to earth when the words ‘new’ and ‘clothes’ together in the same sentence slip out his mouth. That hopeful look you have in your eyes rendered him in a position that’s visibly making him unversed with how touched you seem to be towards something as basic as clothing.

“Y-Y’alroight there? Y’look like you’re about ready to cry—“

“Yes. **Yes**. That’d be lovely.” You interrupt him. Changing out of these wet clothes had been on the back of your mind the entire time.

“Wait roight here! Ol’ Junkrat knows just what t’get ya!” He’s already speeding off surprisingly fast for someone with only one completely functional leg, and he's being loud again. Shushing at his back as he’s walking away didn’t have any effect on the man who was suddenly excited in the moment and absorbed in his own thoughts. You don’t follow him, choosing to stand by the door and listen for anything. You hear a single wheeze coming from the other side of the door, and you wince like it’s personally painful to you as it was actually to him with his sore chest. However, your sympathy is primarily rooted to the threat of your own life being snuffed out should you not perform to certain standards.

 _Please stop coughing_ , you think to yourself as you listen. There’s another cough, and you wince again, but then it goes completely quiet again. You sigh in relief, but that’s short lived because you quickly are reminded of your dual task in babysitting this man’s companion, who is actually currently making a bit more noise than what you’d like a couple rooms down from here.

“Nah… Nope… Nuh-uh.”

You keep hearing a variety of the word ‘no’ for at least half a minute straight, and there’s some movement of some sort of furniture going on that’s getting you nervous.

“Negative… Definitely not…”

You decide to finally follow the sound of Junkrat’s voice, the dimly lit rooms you passed often just having one lamp in them, and you can only assume it’s because those solar panels he stole weren’t that many in number, or the more reasonable option, which was that they did not want to draw attention to themselves from the outside. Roadhog’s room had window curtains, and apparently another one of the rooms you passed did as well, which was an improvement. They must have been adding them on to each window as they went along, but it’s not like it was a need to get it done right away. The zone that this cannery was in was entirely abandoned, among a lot of other neglected and vacant structures.

“No… No way… Eugh!”

You catch Junkrat in action, emptying an entire dresser drawer by drawer, pulling out each piece of clothing one at a time just to unfold it, examine it for a whole second, and then throw it over his shoulder, letting it fall wherever it may without even looking behind him. There’s clothes scattered literally everywhere, to the point where you can’t even see the floor in this room. He’s gone through almost every drawer in just the length of a couple of minutes, and just when you’re about to say something, you’re hit in the face with a crumbled up article of clothing. You announce your presence with an annoyed grumble as you unfold what you were hit with, which turns out to be a very, very, large pastel blue colored shirt. Like, it’s huge. This thing goes right down to your knees it’s just that big, but you’re not picky at this point. Junkrat’s still going through the last drawer in the dresser, but you’re still kind of fascinated with how big this shirt is. This had to be one of Roadhog’s. It just had to be. Junkrat wasn’t nearly as wide as this shirt was.

“Oi hate to break it t’ya, sheila, but I haven’t found anythin’ for ya to wear.”

He was kidding, right? All these clothes, ALL OF THEM, and not one of them suitable? You glare at him, and he’s smiling like the little shit that he’s made himself out to be this entire time.

“Oi, ya like that one? It’s got a cute lil’ baby panda bear on the front.”

“Huh?” You turn the shirt around, and surely enough, it’s got the face of a cartoon looking panda bear smack dab in the middle of it.

“That’s one of Roadhog’s shirts. He shouldn’t moind ya wearin’ it, though.”

“No, but he’ll probably mind this mess you’ve made.” You fold the shirt over your arm.

“Wot. Ya literally just got here, and y’think you’re my _nanny_ now?”

You desperately wanted to say, ‘no, but Roadhog seems to be’, but you keep that comment to yourself. “I’m not your nanny, but it’s just I think that he doesn’t need to see something that may stress him out when he eventually gets up out of bed. He _is_ trying to _recover_.”

Junkrat’s expression softens at that, and that’s how you know you won this dispute. He really did care for Roadhog. He scratches the back of his head, now reaching for all these clothes and just carelessly shoving them back in the drawers, nothing like how they were nice and neatly folded in there to fit effectively. You’re not going to push it at this point, because at least he’s putting them away and out of sight. Roadhog and Junkrat will just have to deal with that can of worms later on, hopefully when you’re as far away from them as possible and once more living your life as usual. That grand old life of yours full of stress and bills, boy howdy.

“So y’gonna get outta them clothes or not, sheila?” He’s grinning slyly at you as he’s just finished stuffing one drawer impossibly full of clothes and moving to the next one. Your face scrunches up and your face gets red. Did he think this was funny?

“Yeah, but not in front of you!”

The Junker throws his head back and cackles. Apparently, yes, he found your embarrassment _hilarious_.

“’Hog an’ Oi always change in front of each other.”

“Good for you two, but I’m not Roadhog.”

“Haha… No, no you’re not, sheila,” He watching you stand there indignantly. He’s smirking proudly to himself as he’s going back to the mess that he made. “My mistake. But Oi think that’s what Oi like about ya already.”

What a creep. You stomp away to the next room over with the shirt while he was preoccupied. Looking to make sure that you were out of the way of the window’s view in the room, and to make sure that there’s no peeping tom named Junkrat trying to get a glimpse of your body. When you felt comfortable enough that the coast was clear, you took off your work uniform. First the shirt, then the pants. Both fell to the floor with a wet thump. Your skin felt cold where the clothes once were on your body, but it felt good to be free from that uncomfortably seawater soaked outfit. If you weren’t in a building with two psychos you might have actually taken off your bra and your panties, but you couldn’t trust either of those two guys as far as you could throw them. And you didn’t even think you could throw them to begin with. Your bra was damp, but you could deal with a damp bra. Fortunately your panties is a thong, which dried out pretty quickly. You remembered the first time you ever wore a thong, and how you hated how it felt like something was always riding up your asscrack, but the positive side of it was it didn’t show the outline of your underwear like others did with certain pants.

You didn’t delay on putting on the large shirt. It smelled funny, but not in a bad way. It fit over you rather nicely, and it went down an inch below your knees, but that’s fine. At least you felt completely covered. It was just an awkwardly huge nightgown. You could work with that.

When you come out of the room with the drenched clothes in hand, Junkrat is out there, waiting on you. He finished jamming the clothes in the dresser faster than it took you to get dressed which was concerning, but you didn’t want to look in the room with the dresser. Ignorance is bliss, you tell yourself. He’s staring at you, his arms folded against his chest. It’s like he’s judging you. You raise your brow at him.

“What?”

“Y’look dumb.”

“ _You_ look dumb.”

“Rude!”

You shush him again to be quieter, then you hold out your clothes to him. “What do I do with this? Where do I put it?”

“Give it t’me.” Junkrat takes it from your hands.

Then he just drops it on the ground with a splat.

You narrow your brows at him. “Are you for real? I’m serious, where do you put these? I’m trying to be polite here.”

“Oi dunno. Just put it wherever. S’what Oi always do. Always ends up in a good spot eventually.”

You sigh, picking up your soaked clothes from the floor placing it off in a corner somewhere out of the way. You’ll worry about it come morning time when you can actually see everything better. You just take it upon yourself to resume to your post, the hard wooden chair at the bedside of Roadhog. When you put your hand on the doorknob to his room, Junkrat stops you.

“Ya goin’ t’sleep tonoight?”

“Yeah. In the chair in there.”

“That ain’t comfy.”

Where was he going with this?

“We can share the couch together for the noight if y’want. It’s roight by his doorway here. You can still listen in on ‘im.”

It was a tempting offer, especially since you know that the hard wooden chair wouldn’t give you much comfort or be all too relaxing to doze off in, but you made a deal, on top of your pledge.

“Thanks, Junkrat, but no thanks. I have to make sure that your friend rests easy tonight.”

“You ain’t gonna close the door on me, are ya, Doc?”

You turn your head to him. “Are you going to promise to keep your voice down?”

Junkrat places his hand to his chest. “Y’have me word, Doc.”

You wondered how well he’d keep to his word on that promise, but you’re willing to give him a chance, for some reason or another. You always were one of those people who gave the benefit of the doubt to others.

“The moment you’re too loud, I shut the door. Understood?”

“Roighto.”

You slowly opened the door to Roadhog’s room. You can’t really tell if he’s asleep or just quiet as usual, but you can only guess that by his heavy breathing which was rather labored, he was sleeping, which was a relief to you.

And a relief to the other one laying down on the couch outside, tossing and turning throughout the night, unable to get an efficient amount of hours rest like you were, all because you both were thinking about the same person tonight.

Funnily enough, that person out of the three of you is the one who is getting the best rest.


	4. Rude awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY. This chapter isn't as long, but if you read the notes at the end of the fic it'll tell you why. Sorry in advance but don't worry, a new chapter will ensue in due time! If there's any errors in this chapter I apologize in advance. This one isn't as active as the second chapter, but it builds up for the next one coming up. :>

 

Neither you nor Junkrat got a whole lot of sleep the night before. You recalled looking over your shoulder to see him every now and again peering at you with part of his face visible from the doorway, which was easy because, again, the couch was right outside the door. All he had to do was crawl to the one end of the furniture and look in. Sleep for the two of you was more like periods of dozing off for an hour or thirty minutes and then twenty minutes of being awake before the same process repeated until six hours later, to which you could assume by then it was eight or eight thirty. You weren’t sure.

Because when your phone was fucking decimated, you lost your goddamn clock. You were sourer about the phone more than the car. The car was a piece of junk that you drove around because it was inexpensive and it got you from point A to point B, but the phone had photos, notes, interesting text conversations, funny videos, and internet history that you could never get back now. You had no one to thank but yourself for the lost data component. All because your stupid self decided to keep procrastinating on backing up your phone on your computer.

Your anxiety began to creep on you as the night rolled along. It wasn’t present earlier because you had distractions, but now that there was nothing but the sounds of Roadhog snoring and the sea breeze coming in through the window and blowing the curtains gently in its own kind of tempo, you were left will all sorts of burdening thoughts. Thoughts like how your workplace was going to react to when you were going to end up as a no-show during your shift, how the people in the hospital there, both patients and coworkers alike were going to cope with your disappearance. Your patients were the ones that you cared about the most more than those you worked with. Who would be there to take care of them and have the exact details and specifics of that patient that might not have been written down? Who would be there to ensure that they had the proper treatment and supervision? How would they know how to talk to the patients loved ones and how would they know to look after them in the most effective manner like how you did? And what about that being your source of income? What about being fired? What about your boss getting mad at you? Then what are you going to do if you get fired? How were you going to pay off all those loans and all that debt that you owed? What about your roommate? She was working too, but she couldn’t afford rent just by herself with her one job and her four classes. She’d get stressed out. She’s probably worried sick about you! And what about your parents? Your friends? How would they all react to you going missing? You’re sure that at least a number of them would think that you were straight out murdered.

What really got you up out of your chair in the morning was the incoming light, the sun making a straight sun beam right in your face, rendering you unable to close your eyes. So much for trying to sleep in a bit longer. Frustrated, you rubbed your eyes which stung from lack of proper sleep. Your head felt heavy, and a headache was threatening to worsen. Taking an aspirin was an option, but you felt compelled to save what medicine you had for your patient, who, by the way, you noticed that despite still being asleep, his mask was back on his face. You wanted to check his temperature, but it wasn’t worth waking him up over. If his body demanded he needed rest, then it was what he needed to do. The human body had a way of knowing just what it needed.

Your mouth is dry, your hair smells like salt water and feels rough and full of knots, but neither of these guys look like they know what the hell a brush is, except maybe Roadhog. Maybe. Cautiously and carefully you get up out of your seat, turning around to head for the doorway, your eyes catching a pile of cute little stuffed animals all stacked up semi-neatly on top of one another. You didn’t see them last night because it was too dark, but seeing those little cutesy plushies really put a whole new perspective on how you perceived Roadhog. When you left the room, you slowly shut the door behind you. If he needed any of the aspirin, you left the bottle on the small table next to his bed with the water you gave him last night.

First thing you saw when you walked out the doorway to close the door was a snoozing Junkrat, sleeping oddly on the couch with one leg and arm off the edge of the couch. Half of a pillow was on the top half of his face. He looked comfortable though, so that’s all that mattered, you guessed. If there was any time to escape from both of these men, this would be it, when they’re both asleep. You could just ditch the both of them and let Roadhog deal with whatever is plaguing him on his own, and you seriously consider it. After all, he threatened you, didn’t he? If you failed to make him feel better, he made it apparent that it’d be lights out for you. He couldn’t kill you if you got away and turned the both of them in. But what if they got up? What if they get up and catch you getting away and they snatch you up again? It’d be stupid of them not to, considering you knew where they were and you’d otherwise be an informant of these two who were clearly against the law. The stolen artwork was a pretty good indication that they had no regard for the law, and the destruction of your car showed that they didn’t care who crossed their path, because if you were a target, you were a target.

Even if you didn’t like Roadhog and Junkrat, you made a vow. It was your duty to protect those that were ill. Maybe you really believed that vow, or maybe you were just making an excuse to cover up that you were afraid of the possibility of being caught trying to escape. You were either a chicken shit or just really honorable. You didn’t want to try to sit and evaluate which one it really was.

You head to the bathroom, because you had to piss. Super badly. Typical morning routine. The bathroom wasn’t as bad as you thought it was going to be, but apparently one of the two of them cleaned it up quite a bit. You only used it because it was the only option you had. No time to be picky. This really made you appreciate your own bathroom a lot. You were surprised that the toilet managed to flush, but Junkrat _did_ brag about getting running water in this temporary building. You reckon the only reason why they were still here was because of Roadhog’s illness. You glanced around in the bathroom for any sort of shower. Maybe there’s another bathroom that has it but you wouldn’t imagine a cannery having one, so maybe they have a makeshift one with a hose that you don’t know about since they apparently have running water. You weren’t going to wake either of them up and ask, so you head to the kitchen to take care of the next issue on your list then—your thirst. Your throat was dry as a fucking desert.

When you opened the fridge, there was a fuckton of water bottles on the bottom shelf. Some of them opened and drank out of, but a lot of them were still untouched. You take one, unscrew the lid, and chug almost three fourths of it down. Swirling the remaining water around in the plastic bottle, it gave you the idea to take a few bottles with you into the bathroom, setting them on the counter near the sink. Curiosity leads you to the same room that you and Junkrat were in with the dresser last night, looking around for any type of thing that you could take with you like a washcloth. You figured since it was morning, maybe there would have been something in this room that you would have otherwise missed last night because of the dim lighting. You found no such thing, but you did find a small pick comb on the dresser and a cloth-like rope hanging out of one of the drawers in the dresser. Probably part of the draw strings on some pants, but you didn’t care. You were taking it anyway. It looked thick enough for what you planned to use it for.

You head back into the bathroom, no washcloth in hand, but at least with two things you can utilize. Going back into the bathroom, you close the door and try to push the lock button in the doorknob, only to find out it doesn’t work. You pray that neither of them come in the bathroom when you take off the large shirt, but at least it is reassuring that you still have your undergarments if in the unfortunate circumstance they did barge in. You put the toilet lid down and used that as your second makeshift counter, placing the large folded up shirt on top of it with the cloth looking rope. You keep the pick comb on the counter. Looking at the tiny collection of water bottles, you brace yourself for torture as you unscrew the lid on one of the bottles and lean your head over the sink. If the sink wasn’t as old as it was, you might have actually stuck your head under the faucet and washed your hair in the sink, but you weren’t gonna do that here. Instead you pour the ice cold water down onto your hair to wet it down, gasping when the cold water comes cascading down. You wanted to curse, you wanted to scream because of how fucking cold it was, but this is just what had to be done. You wanted to be clean. There was no rags in sight to give yourself a bird bath with, so this was just the next best option till one of the boys wake up and you could ask. After two and a half bottles worth of cold water, you let your sopping wet hair drip down into the sink, reaching for the pick comb to get the knots out. Give or take ten to fifteen tedious minutes in unknotting your hair which was a chore in itself, you wring out your hair, and do one more comb through. Satisfied with the results that you accomplished under limited resources, you put your oversized baggy shirt on again and reach for the cloth rope, tying it around your waist securely to create a makeshift dress. You made sure to tie it tight; you didn’t want it going anywhere. Now it was a cute, baggy panda dress. Better than nothing. Too bad you didn’t have a mirror in here to admire your handiwork.

Taking the bottles and the comb with you out of the bathroom, you put the unused water bottles back in the fridge and keep the half used one out for yourself. You combine the water from the previous bottle you didn’t finish off with the new one, then went to go put the comb back on top of the dresser where you found it. A shame there was no blow dryer, but letting your hair air dry wasn't too bad of a choice.

Breakfast was the next thing on your list for the day, and you wondered just how you were going to improvise on _this_ task. Fortunately, after quietly going through the cabinets, you find some chicken ramen noodles and a slightly busted up pan. Adding water to it from one of the bottles because you didn’t trust the water that came out of the tap, you added the noodles and went for the flavor packet next. You'd put it on the stove and turn on the heat once you got other food prepped as well. The soup wasn’t for you, but instead, Roadhog. He was the priority on your list, and while you made something easy and efficient for him since he was sick, it also gave you time to look around in the kitchen and see what you could make for yourself. And Junkrat, you _guess_.

Looking through the cabinets and fridge while trying to evaluate what you could and could not make was kind of hard when there were police sirens in the distance getting louder and louder, until it was almost like they were right outside the building…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter isn't as long or exciting for a couple of reasons. One is because I have a whole actiony one planned out that is going to be difficult to write, but I will conquer it. It should be exciting and rather humorous as well. On top of that, I got a brand new 3DS for the first time in my life and I've been playing the crap out of Pokemon when I'm not writing.
> 
> Fortunately, however, my s/o and I are plotting out the next chapter so it's not just me writing now, but also her ideas incorporated into future chapters. We have a lot planned out. :D


	5. The City

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hold on tight, it's bound to get ugly from here.
> 
> Just as a warning, there is some graphic description in this chapter. I would say gore, but not entirely? Either way, just a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is in dedication to my girlfriend. :) Thanks for making me feel good and for being the best friend I could ever ask for.  
> Just as a warning, I am churning these chapters out and I may not always proofread them one hundred percent so if you see any errors or anything before I do, and you want to point it out, I won't get mad. 
> 
> Let me apologize first off for taking so long to post a chapter. I've had a lot going on in my life. College, the death of a pet, the holidays, ect. ect.  
> I don't know when I'm gonna post the next one because technically I should be doing homework right now considering I'm taking full courses and studio classes. This chapter WAS going to be longer, but it ended up being cut a bit short because I wanted to at least update this fic and also give you guys something to read while I brew up more ideas. 
> 
> The next chapter may take a while because I don't know how MUCH action based the next one is going to be. It's going to be actiony, yes, but how much is a mystery to me just as much as it is to you guys! Isn't that fun? :D I'm expecting it to be pretty actiony considering it's highly, highly likely a police car chase is gonna happen. I mean, come on. 
> 
> If you guys want updates, you can check up on my personal tumblr blog which is under my user description on here. I welcome anyone who wants to talk to me--you guys, my audience, are my support and my muse, and it's important that if you wanna talk, you talk to me. I look for inspiration.

It dawns on you shortly after you see the small collection of police vehicles parked outside the cannery—Your phone had the tracking services turned on at all times. You and your roommate agreed that in case anything ever happened to either of you, that there would at least be data collected that could be pulled for the sake of your whereabouts. The phone call you made seconds before it was crushed definitively helped pinpoint the location with the GPS it had installed in it. This was all the doing of your roommate. Who else would know that you went missing before anyone else? While her intentions might have been well, you couldn’t help but think of this being any worse of a time for police trying to find a missing person.

You don’t even get a chance to catch a glimpse of the cops themselves before Junkrat is up and yelling in Roadhog’s room. On a whim, however, you do take this brief moment to run over in the room with the dresser, find your shoes from the night before and put them on before coming back out into the main part of the floor you all were on. Straight ahead was the room that Roadhog had slept in last night.

“ROADHOG! OI, MATE, GET UP! THEY’RE HERE! THE POLICE ARE HERE! ‘HOG! ‘HOG! GET UP, WE GOTTA GO, MATE!”

“Shut up. I heard you the first time.” You can hear the portly man’s voice rumbling, the tone sounding lower than usual and this time unmistakably vexed. You can hear the window in his bedroom being shut. He coughs only once, and you can hear that too, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the night before, which brings you a bit of relief. That relief finds itself taking form as a nervous lump in your throat when you hear his thoughts.

“How did they find us?”

You dare not say a single word, and you never really needed to. There’s nothing but silence as you see the slow head turn of both of the boys until you feel both pairs of eyes staring straight dead at you. Before you can even explain yourself to them, the silence is swallowed up by the sounds of heavy footsteps that belonged to none other than Roadhog. You can hear each heavy step almost echo in your ear as time seemed to just almost halt entirely, the seconds it took for him to end up right in front of you feeling like hours as your mind raced a thousand miles a minute. You can hear outside noises, like the sirens, Junkrat yelling, and the police outside, but none of that registers. You can’t make out what Junkrat is saying despite him being in the same room as you because you’re too consumed in the mysterious reflection of yourself staring back at you through Roadhog’s swine mask. Your heartbeat is beating in your ears, your hands go cold, and fear seizes you by the throat, suffocating you mentally while Roadhog physically performs the same action.

“You did this.” His tone is accusatory, lacking any sort of upward inflection that a question would have. Not like you had any ability to protest or plead your case, because he was going to crush your windpipe in a second. His single hand easily wrapped around your entire neck, and you’re glancing up at him, pleading for mercy in the form of a struggling breath. Both of your hands place themselves on his arm and you’re desperately trying to pry his hand off of your neck, but to no use. Your next resort was to beat at that same arm with balled up fists, and that too, did no good, other than create a shuffling noise as you writhed and wriggled for freedom in a hopeless grip of death.

"Oi! 'Hog! Let 'er talk! She's got somethin' t'say!"

As much as he was overbearing in the personality department, you owed it to Junkrat who had intervened, convincing the larger man to spare your life if only for a few minutes longer.

“She’s the reason we’re in this mess.” The guttural voice of Roadhog sends chills up your spine, the feeling of his hand around your throat still lingering despite how it was removed just moments ago. You wouldn’t be shocked if you get bruises there if you all manage to survive that long. Before Junkrat could get a word in, you were the one to stand for your own defense, coughing with a hand over your throat as you fought for your breaths which you were now grateful for.

“I know the area around here pretty well. You learn a lot about places here when you meet plenty of people on the clock daily.” And it’s true, too. You can’t go a day at work without people talking about some part of the state you lived in, oftentimes in conversation others asking where a certain place of interest is. You learned about directions to those places, and even a handful of times you’ve went to some of those locations that you first learned about by word of mouth.

Maybe you’re stretching your worth a bit here, but can you really blame yourself? No, not at all. It was an attempt to survive and any rational person would pursue similar behavior. It takes Roadhog a couple of seconds to come to his next decision, and you know it’s rushed, and that’s part of the reason why you’re all the more nervous due to the impulsivity that is brought about in this moment that dwells on the importance of every second. Once again you manage to save yourself, along with this time, the help of an unlikely source… That source being the one who, you know, blew up your car. Speaking of which, you’re not even sure if these two even have a plan, and if they do, how they plan on even getting out of here.

The sounds coming from the floor beneath you gave you an equal sense of relief as it did fear. Relief because it was the police, but fear because it was the POLICE, and you were with CRIMINALS. You can’t make out what they’re yelling down in the floor beneath you and your captors, but you can hear a radio and you swore you heard the words ‘backup’ at some point.

“Oi, uh… ‘Hog. Ain’t our roide downstairs--?”

You never saw a fat man run so fast in your entire life, spurred on by just mere words at that. He was practically a blurry mass that pushed you out of the way, straight into the chest of the explosive maniac, who seemed to be able to handle your collision quite well, only taking one step back to regain whatever minor balance you seemed to remove from him. You’re too awestruck to even move, shocked at how fast he moved and at the same time apprehensive of just what you might find downstairs should you decide to follow.

“Heeheehee!”

You glance behind you at the source of the cackling. Junkrat is the one you collided against, but neither he nor you seemed to care too much about bumping into one another.

You aren’t even able to make it downstairs in enough time to see what is occurring with the sounds of firearms that is filling your ears, and you can’t even initially move as you can only wonder if all of the police were truly on the bottom floor of the building, or if there were any left out in the vehicle waiting. Your legs feel like jelly, the weight of your own body suddenly feeling as if it’s unable to support you. You shake at the knees a bit as the loud blasts from the guns below are all but silenced by one rapidly firing one, and the screams of voices from those you do not recognize fade away like the breeze that Junkrat brought with him when he hobbled past you fairly energetically.

You flinch as you feel a hand place itself between your shoulder blades. It’s his, and he’s actually pushing you, forcing you to walk forward until you have no choice but to start moving again.

“C’mon, Doc! We gotta hoightail it outta here!”

The sight on the first floor made you want to throw up, but you didn’t even really have anything to eat in the first place. So instead, you feel the water you drank mixed with stomach acid lap at the back of your throat. Your blood runs cold, starting with your fingertips as you take in the aftermath of a massacre.

Your eyes and attention are completely and wholly ripped from your realm of control, the scene of five police corpses destined to be permanently tattooed into your memories. Death was a thing you were familiar with, but witnessing straight up homicide wasn’t. What about their families? What about their loved ones? Sure, you had a sour sentiment for authority in general and with good reason, but these were still people at the end of the day.  
They could have been your patients.  
Your heart sinks deeper into your chest.

Junkrat flies right past you, giggling madly past the strewn about bloodied and bullet ridden corpses that should look like swiss cheese right about now with how many rounds of ammunition you see that had pierced their bodies alone. All of them died fairly quickly, and died on the other side of the room, far away from the bike. Either they were there beforehand or he moved them over there before filling them with lead.

The bullet holes penetrated their skulls and chests. A few hit the gut region on some. One was missing an eye after a bullet took it out, but that didn’t stop the other good eye from coincidentally looking in your direction, almost seemingly right at you.

 “Oi almost stepped in a blood puddle there, mate! You were messy with this one! Heeheehee!”

Roadhog, who is clutching his beloved bike, only groans. You see no sign of the murder weapon, but you can presume its put away for the sake of holding his motorcycle with not one hand, but two, for extra care.

“Oi! Doc! Doc!”

You hear Junkrat calling you, and in the corner of your vision you can see him waving at you, motioning you to come and join him in the side car where he’s parted his legs in an attempt to make room for you in what little space there was in that tiny thing. You, however, remain stationary, each one of your feet feeling like they weighed three hundred pounds.

It wouldn’t be long until the police would find out about these fallen officers. It wouldn’t be long until social media would be blowing up demanding the heads of the thugs that did this, you included.

“She ain’t movin’, Roadie.”

You hear one of Roadhog’s seemingly initial response to agitation—a growl.

“I don’t have time for this.”

Your balance shifts, the weight placed upon your feet is relieved as you are thrown over the portly man’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes and brought over to the bike. Your eyes are still fixated on the corpses as you are slung over his shoulder, up until you can’t see the bodies anymore when he places you the bike, right up at the front of the seat. You can feel the bike really sink in weight when he finally sits down on it behind you. The way it suddenly sinks shocks you after being in a trance, but it at least breaks free from it.

Junkrat’s excited expression dims for a second when he sees that you’re not sitting in the sidecar with him.

“Aww!” He whines.

“Quit moaning. I drive, you shoot.” Roadhog instructs his companion, who gives a rather enthusiastic salute just before going back to holding his launcher with both hands again instead of one. He starts to cackle to himself like a little hyena, and that’s just another reason why you’re glad that you’re _not_ sitting with him. It’s a tight fit with Roadhog. A very, tight, uncomfortable fit that has you leaning forward as you can feel his belly press against your back.

“Don’t touch _anything_. Keep your hands on the handlebars where I can see them. Watch your legs near the pipes.”

You place your hands on the handlebars, right next to his, close but not close enough to be touching. You're actually worried because there's not much space for you on this thing and it feels like you're right in his lap practically, and in a way, you borderline are, but it's not like you have much of a choice. Besides, you're okay with being in the front. On a positive light, he kind of shields you.

At least he cares a little bit about you enough to say something. Then again, he probably says it more because he values the bike than you. You did as your told regardless, not looking to piss him off when he’s clearly focused on getting the hell out of here. From the side of you, you can hear Junkrat loading his weapon—that fucking grenade launcher. Your heart skips a beat and your stomach absolutely plummets when he starts to cackle like the apparent madman that he is.

“Ready for the ol’ rooty tooty point an’ shooty, mate!”

This is it, you thought to yourself. This is how you’re gonna fucking die. You’re gonna end up just like one of those policemen that were decorating the bottom floor of the cannery. This is it, this is the end, goodbye friends, family, coworkers, that annoying man across the street in your neighborhood—you knew them all well. You were gonna end up with a bullet between your eyes and this is how you were going to be recalled by your family members who were probably going to think you were a criminal alongside these two. You take a deep breath and close your eyes tightly trying to push that thought away, and at the exact same time Roadhog finds his balance on the bike and activates the motorcycle with a loud roar that brought it to life. Incidentally, that rumble made you jump slightly. You don’t even know where the exit is out of the building aside from the one Junkrat made himself with your car, but you didn’t care enough to keep your eyes open to find out.

At least the last few hours of your life have been unique, right? You hear him raising the kickstand with his foot, and the revving of the motorcycle. There’s a bit of hobbling back and forth, and you can hear Junkrat and Roadhog saying a few things to each other over the rumbling, which eventually turns into yelling when the muffler starts to contribute to the noise factor, but you don’t really _listen_ to what either of them are actually saying because you can literally hear your ears ringing. Your ear cells are literally dying, not that you care too much about that right now. You’re too much in your own little world right now, the feeling of your hair blowing gently in the wind as you feel movement, and eventually sense that you're picking up speed. With your hair in a ponytail, the wind hits your face at full force, and you can feel the end of your hair is hitting against the back of Roadhog’s stomach. While that may be an odd thing to focus on, you had little to go off in the first place, especially when you’ve kept your eyes closed this entire time. The stench of seawater floods your sense of smell just as it had the night before when it literally poured in your nostrils and stung like hell.

There’s nothing but the loud muffler that blasts in your ears for what felt like the longest time, until you hear to the side of you, Junkrat’s maniacal laughter, which actually causes you to open your eyes for the first time since you’d been riding on the bike. From the darkness behind your eyelids you see Junkrat, who, upon making eye contact with you, stops his cackling at the same time. He’s got that impish, crooked smile on his face, and you wonder just what is on his mind as you both are locked in an environment separate to the world that Roadhog is speeding you both through in an almost kind of blur. It doesn’t last long, however, and disgust consumes you when he snaps you out of the mutual stare by winking at you.

It still eludes you as to how the fuck someone could be so excited to be doing shit like this, but you quickly reminded yourself once more that these two are a very special case from the norm.

You can’t look behind you, it’s impossible to with how wide Roadhog is and you’re worried that if you even dare turn your head the wrong way he’d get mad, but from the sides of you, you can see that you’ve left the port way behind, and the smell of salt water has dissipated. The incoming change of scenery is a welcome as much as it is an equal reason for distress.

The factories changed to tall skyscrapers and buildings, the absence of vehicles and lacking presence of people quickly changing the further you end up in the city. This was _your_ city, but right now it didn’t feel like any place you recognized, not with how you felt dread and uneasiness creeping up on you, and for all the right reasons.  

At least this was all happening before rush hour, right? Not many people out today.

Not yet, anyway.

No sign of any police or helicopters yet. No need for firing weapons as a result.

You’re foolishly praying it’s going to stay that way.


End file.
